Soul City: Lordran
by Alone in the blight
Summary: Sometimes, People don't need a hero. Sometimes, People need a monster...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: there is it guys! do check out Hosen's Soul City: Boletaria as well!**

**Warning: this is M rated fiction. it contains adult themes not suited for everyone. Caution is advised**

* * *

Andrew Sanders couldn't sleep that night like all others. With the recent death of his mother, he became an unstable cocoon, ready to explode at the corruption all over soul city. Some Manity junkies killed her for some cash eight months ago. The government doesn't give two shits about the burg district and the **First Flame **gang of Lordran. Their illegal merchandise... it just adds more shit to the big picture.

Even if Manity was for free, he wouldn't consider dealing with the very same people who wacked his father twenty years ago. Andrew swallowed his pain and turned on his television.

"… _has introduced a new taxes with the purchase of Man-made improved Tonosomal Yield , commonly known as Manity. Seath's incorporation has revealed a brand new formula with twice the potency and the price .That does it for today's news, this is Sally Ryan of channel 8. Have a great week end , everyone!"_

"What a load of bull." Mumbled Andrew as he turned off the television just in time to remember his Sister's, Molly, appointment. His apartment was a labyrinth of stinky clothes, overnight food and other stuff he would throw away in haste. He knew damn well that Molly won't be exactly pleased with the look of their parent's apartment.

**Ding! **Mere moment later, Molly buzzed the ring door. Andrew cursed his luck and went for the door. He was quite surprise to see her fiancé Richard in a fancy suit probably a Gwynevere's brand. The hatred between them was quite mutual in fact. "Andrew."

"Richard." Replied Andrew monotonously. He heard his sister's heels at the stairs. "What brings mister all mighty to **the slums **?" he hated it when this Richard called the burg so.

"Oh, you'll see." Richard spat back with a devilish grin. Molly finally caught up with her fiancé. She gave him a quickly peck before hugging her older brother "Bullet! How are you?! Haven't seen you in three months!"

"Four actually." Andrew corrected her. For some reason, the fellows at the **Bat Wing **shipping company gave him that nickname due to his insanely quick deliveries. Richard was peeking over to see the mess behind him.

"Ugh, look babe, I will head back to the car. Just….tell him." he didn't wait for a reply and descended down the stairs leaving Andrew clueless "Tell him what?"

"Look bro, you know we are getting married pretty soon and my apartment is too low for his standards so… you know…"

"He is taking you to Anor Londo… to his pretty mansion, Ain't he?" there was silence.

"Answer me god damn it!" Andrew yelled at his sister. He knew this would have happened.

"W-well, at least he is taking care of me! I am **sick **of the burg! Every day when I go back home form Lordran's daily, I pray that none will just swoop in and rape me! Don't try to convince me that there is a single virtue living in this shithole!"

Andrew rarely saw his sister in such state but nevertheless he continued. "Mom and Dad lived in this **shithole **for over than thirty fucking five years! I didn't see them bitching about it!"

"And now they are fucking dead! Sanders from the gang while Mom died from a fucking Junky! Where were you mister hot shot?" Molly didn't realize that she crossed the line till it was too late.

"**Get out…"**

"Bullet, I am sorr-"

"**GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" ** Andrew slammed the door so hard that its glass was cracked. The whimpers of his sisters started to fade away as she hurried back to her Richard's car.

Alone, Andrew sat in his father's office. He stared at a picture of him and his sister at Ariamis' art museum. She always had a knack for ruining pictures with her silky black hair flailing around. He opened the first drawer and pulled out one of the black blossom cigars "What were you thinkin' ,pops? I will never achieve anything in my life." He promised his father to smoke the black blossom whenever something of importance happened in his life.

* * *

Andrew wasn't used to the buzzing (and annoying ) sound of the alarm. His kind mother used to wake him up back then. He groaned a little before looking at the time "8:30? Shit!"

His morning shift was half an hour away. In unseen haste, Andrew dressed up in his casual outfit. He didn't have the chance to eat breakfast or even wash himself. Outside, his bike was nowhere to seen "No no no, not again!" his doubts where confirmed when the spotted the loose chains and the broken lock.

The road was in constant congestion hence the necessity of his bike. There were some reconstructions at the old Sunlight Statute adding more congestion to the road. Plumes and car vapor almost blocked the glaring sun at the horizon.

"Hey, Bullet!" Andrew knew that voice too damn well. Narissa was the Burg's bicycle. Both Narissa and her Sister Narmin were the gold geese of the Fire Kink Shrine owned of course by the Iron bitch, Quelaag. Ironically, Narissa was riding a Vespa " Wanna a ride?"

"S-sure." Andrew tried to deter his sight away from her lustrous cleavage. She slowed down as Andrew got on. "Another Twock, Bullet?"

"Yeah." Admitted Andrew sadly.

"You know, you can get back your bike."

"By DMPD? Oh please!" Andrew laughed out loud. The darkmoon police department, despite the effort of some of its members, were useless if not corrupt themselves. A truck driver of Alvina's fried mushrooms eyed the dyad during the traffic "Keep your eyes on 'em prizes, boy!"

Narissa may sucked more dicks (and pussies) than she could remember but the woman's pride is another entity of its own. When the lights went green, she flipped the bird before spitting on him from an opened window. It was fine since she had just banged the scrawny traffic police officer last week so no charges were written.

The streets started to loosen up a little. Narissa went back to what she was about to say " I meant the Grey market, you know, at Old Londo?"

Old Londo, it was the core of the Lordran district long ago. As the districts expanded, Old Londo became more and more neglected till it became a ghost town only for shady businesses and other illegal activities. However, despite the lack of law and order, Old Londo is maintained by an old man called Ingward who maintained the safety of its residences as well as overseeing the grey market. One might wonder which is better: the Burg or Old Londo?

"I'll pass." Andrew replied which kind of disappointed Narissa "Oh come on, man! I thought you would hop from the Vespa to Old Londo."

"I am not that kind of person."

"Your father was. Or At least that's what Ol' mama said to me. She is still thankful for his many favours " Andrew chose to remain silent for a while; any reminisce of his father troubled him greatly. The Vespa stopped at his work. "There we are! Come by the Fire kink sometimes, eh?"

"We'll see." Andrew never fully understood the idea of prostitution in general. Why anyone would buy fake and brief happiness? He wouldn't blame them though…

* * *

The Bat Wing building was a four floored old building way before Sander's time. Cracks and leaks were an anticipated consequence. The first and second floors were for storage while the third and fourth ones were for staff and management.

Due to the lack of his bike, Andrew was assigned to closer deliveries with a small wage penalty. Andrew delivered a handful of packages throughout the Burg. It was a tiresome day for sure without his bike but every penny counts these days.

The last package he delivered was a little over midnight. Streets began to empty and the district became dimmer. It was yet another starless sky. The Pink neon lights of the Fire Kink Shrine slightly alerted his sleepy mind. He thought of paying Narissa a visit since he was nearby. He wouldn't enter this cesspool no matter the circumstances and so he leaned over next to her Vespa.

He almost fell asleep two hours later when she finally showed up "Bullet!" her enthusiasm snapped him back to reality.

"My last delivery was two blocks away so here I am." He yawned quiet loudly. Narissa didn't seem to care about his not-so-polite altitude.

"Well, What are you waiting for? Hop in!" Andrew's legs were barely standing after all of these deliveries. A free ride was a miracle at this situation.

"Where is your sister?"

"She took the day off…she's a bit sick." on their way, Narissa kept talking about her 'clients'. Perhaps she described every spectrum of the Burg society in those twenty minutes. There were the rich, the poor, the stinky, the kinky, the fat and the weird. Andrew didn't possibly expect to learn something new especially from a hoe.

Narissa parked her Vespa near her house. It was a nice small house on a hill overlooking a good chunk of the burg. It was well funded though; Andrew had no idea how much the sisters were making. "It has been a very nice ride, hon. Few look at the me like the way you do so…i… appreciate it." She ended her words with a soft peck.

"I .. erm.. yeah sure." Andrew mumbled like a fool afterwards which drew a nice smile from Narissa. He turned his back and walked towards his apartment. Ten minutes of walking beats an hour's walk.

_Then he heard it._

A bloody screech. Narissa's to be precise. In a heartbeat, he dashed towards her house and stormed into the front door. Naked and headless Narmin was, with a justice tarot card right between her cold breasts. Someone coiled his or her gloved hand over Narissa's neck from the shadows. The other hand held another tarot card. This one however was as sharp as a kitchen knife trailing some trickles of blood from the woman's neck.

"Let her go." Andrew tried to remain as calm as possible. He wasn't by any means a trained hostage negotiator but he knew damn well that any mistake would wind up pretty bad for Narissa.

The unknown assailant chose to remain silent. He or she took a step forward to reveal oneself. A masked Chester in a Victorian formal suit one was with a top hat and a withered rose pinned to the suit. The assailant removed his coiling hand briefly and pulled out another black pitched Tarot card. It was the **fool.**

Andrew didn't expect the masked Chester to throw One's human shield at his direction. The Chester threw the fool card on the floor and simply walked to the shadows. The fool card started to tick as if it was something else…

_Gods no._

Andrew yanked Narissa from the floor to outside. They barely reached the door before a wild explosion tore the whole place apart. Andrew's back ate up most of small shards and fragment while Narissa was virtually unscathed. Darkness soon followed…

* * *

Andrew didn't feel a pinch of pain till now. His back was aching terribly and the rest of body was screeching for any sedative or painkiller. The man didn't realize that he was staring at a white ceiling for five minutes till a policeman snapped him back to reality. "Can't get much whiter, boy."

"Arrrgh, Narissa…Where is S-"

"The nurses gave her some sleeping pills. Bitch kept crying about **The Marvelous Chester**." The cop was old enough to be his father. He hid half of his freckled face behind an ugly sunglass (even though they were inside a hospital). Andrew couldn't configure the rest of the Cop's body in his current state.

"Look boy, let's just all agree that a gas pipe has exploded or somethin'. Bitch will get some reds from suing the gas company and everyone will be happy. _You don't wanna dig up this cold case…." _

Corruption, Lack of sense of duty, Laziness… all reeked from that cop. Andrew's confused face morphed into a disgusted one "I have nothing to say to you, **officer.**"

The cop lighted up a cheap smoke right at his face "So this is how you wanna play huh? It turns out that there were **no **gas leaks after all. I guess that concludes our work here." Andrew almost wanted to spit on that pig of an officer. He knew his father would.

With the departure of the cop, came a doctor with a fairly long and blonde ponytail. She had this look of an inexperienced doctor, her following sentences proved otherwise "Hello, Andrew Sanders, this is doctor Rhea Le Blanc. Woods shrapnel had been extracted and your wounds had been disinfected and stitched. You might experience general inflammation for a day or two . Out of twenty seven Shrapnel, none hit your spinal cord. You are one lucky man, Sanders."

Andrew smiled "Thanks... there was another woman with me. Her name was Narissa 'Bombshell' Leon. Any news about her?"

"Miss Bombshell had a minor superficial injury in her neck. She suffers from a severe mental trauma." Rhea lowered her voice "I-is it true? Is the **Tarot Killer** back?"

"I saw him with my own fucking eyes. The DMPD are scared shitless from him. It might another copycat." Back when Andrew's mother was alive, she used to tell him stories about this acquainted serial killer. He used to kill women only. Each murder was entirely different from the other. The Tarot cards were the common factor in this mess. The original Tarot killer was so good that he left some clues for the police to tail yet they failed every time. These murders happened about a hundred years ago, since then, Copy Cats started to surface to complicate thing even further.

"It is physically impossible to live over a hundred and fifty years….yet her Screams…." Rhea briefly shivered when the recent memory flashed in her head.

"Where is her room?"

* * *

Andrew spent the next ten hours in the hallways of Saint Flame hospital in the middle of the Burg waiting for Narissa to wake up. Saint flame hospital ran by men and women with hearts of gold. Donations from here and there kept this hospital going. The government had no role with this hospital; it was built by the people and for the people.

Once Narissa gained some consciences, Andrew rushed towards her. The woman tried to cry but her tears dried out. "_Narmin….why? why? Narmin…."_

Andrew left his idols behinds and gave Narissa a warm hug. Words are useless in such situation. Narissa opened her mouth but words wouldn't just go out easily "The police….you told them?"

"They didn't listen. They **never **listen." It was the truth. It was the ugly truth that he had to face each and every day.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted the conversation. It was the first time for Andrew to meet Kirk Thornald. He was an average man in almost every attribute. He was a bit over muscled though… quite understandable in his current job.

"Hey Bombshell, I hope you're holding up." his voice was a bit hoarse either from too much shouting or smoking or both.

"You are here to fire me, aren't ya?" Came the unexpected question.

"It was the Iron bitch's call not mine. With Narmin's death, we lost five Whales and three big fishes…three of your Whales swam away. Lady Quelaag is all about the reds." Andrew was a bit clueless in this conversation. He knew **Reds **meant money due to the red colour of the cash. The Whale probably meant a rich customer.

"Typical Iron bitch…."Narissa muttered.

"She warns you not to engage in any contact with her rival , Quelana.I-I am sorry about that, Bombshell." Said Kirk while putting a bundle of cash on the bed "Here is my cut from this month. Figure yourself out…Best of luck." Like that Kirk left the room. He looked a nice guy of sort.

Silence settled between the duo for a minute or so. Andrew thought carefully about his next words "Buckle up, you are going to crash in my apartment….as for that son of a bitch, Leave him to me."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sigh...well my hype for continuing is slowly dying. Nevertheless, i shall continue :)**

* * *

Ten days as passed since the murder. Narissa was slowly recuperating at Andrew's when the headlines exploded with the news of the return of the Tarot killer. Apparently, the victim had to be a cop's daughter to get all riled up. According to channel 8, the poor little thing was hanged naked on the old Sunlight statue with **the devil **card on her forehead.

Meanwhile, Andrew was gearing up for the manhunt of the Tarot killer. Justice could only be served by the people. He was ready to do 'illegal acts' for some urban justice. He armed himself with his father's Bowie knife and his trusty .44 magnum… it was rather outdated in comparison to the modern firearms but he decided to keep it nonetheless.

"Bullet…" Narissa faintly called him from the living room" Don't put yourself to danger… I don't wanna lose you."

"It has to be done. Chester must be punished." Andrew answered grimly. He covered his face with the hood of his jacket along with a black scarf. The rest of his clothes were black and dim exposing very little of his true identity. Andrew left the apartment afterwards, there was nothing more to be said.

His main plan was to go to Old Londo. There must be any sort of information or clue about the Marvelous Chester. First, he had to stock up with bullets…and he knew just the place…

* * *

Andre's gun shop was at the far side of the Burg district in a secluded area. Andre was an old school man with old school weaponry unlike other gun shops. If Andrew was looking for proper ammo, it had to be there.

Andrew was fascinated by the weapons at the stand before even entering the shop; old brush guns, revolvers and bolt-action sniper rifles. the gun shop itself was perhaps older than Andre himself as cracks ran rampart through the walls. Inside, he was met by a wide grin "Greetings, youngster, what can I do for you?"

"I am looking for some ammo for a magnum , .44" replied Andrew politely. The old man looked to his right for the ammo but instead there were an empty box. Andre grunted "One second."

A Minute later, Andre came back with two ammo boxes, one was red while the other was black "Ran out regulars, there is Hellfire and Widow bullets if you like."

"Hellfire? Widow? " Andre was taken aback for a second. He frowned before explaining " Both are Manity infused, the Hellfire bullets can light you up while the Widow can miss you up real quick."

**Manity.** Andrew hated this plight from the deepest part of his heart. Yet, Seeing no other option, he had settled with one of them " Twenty four 'Hellfire', please."

* * *

Despite the Vespa's small gas tank, it needed a refill after going back and forth in the Burg district. He filled his stomach with a large sized meal from Alvina's fried mushroom before heading to Old Londo. The moment he stepped in Ingward's home, fog enshrouded the whole place. Ruined building started to appear the further he delved into this ghost district. People were scarce around him or perhaps he wasn't looking enough.

In the single road he was taking, laid a towering beast of a man. He had a terrifying sawed off shotgun in one hand while the other was deformed from the excessive usage of Manity.** "Purpose of visit?"**

Andrew gulped "Grey market, I need some information about-"

"**Five large."**

"WHAT?!"

"**Look, Pal, you can pay the reds to ensure your safety or everything on you will be stripped." **The Manity addict pointed at the junkies and the homeless sulking behind the ruins waiting to strike** "Pay up a grand if you wanna head back safety." **

Andrew checked his wallet. He was a little over a five hundred "How about a trade? This Vespa must worth something, right?"

The brute inspected the ride for a couple of minutes assessing its true value **"That should cover up the expenses, welcome to Old Londo!"**

* * *

Perhaps the grey market was one of Lordran's hidden wonders; dozens of stands were erected around what seemed to be an opera house. Anything imaginable was sold or traded there from bizarre fetish Prono tapes to classified stolen documents from the government.

Andrew Wandered aimlessly for an hour in the midst of the market. One stand in particular caught his attention. It was ' ' trove of treasures'. Lots of odds and ends were at his stand. was a bald man in a cheap suit with a crooked noose and a sham of a smile "Good day, mate, What can I do for ya?"

"Information, I need some." Andrew whispered for some reason.

"Alright, I can help you with that; trusty Patches have eyes and ears everywhere heeheheh!" his laughter was a bit annoying. Andrew whispered more "The Tarot Killer."

Patches became more serious "**The **Tarot killer?"

"Yes."

"Oy, that's some serious business, Bruv." Patches stroke his chin "That will be fifty fishes."

Again with the crazy prices "What?! What a load of bull!" Andrew deliberately turned his back and walked away. He knew that this slimy bastard would do anything for a customer "Wait! Perhaps we ought to … negotiate ?"

* * *

Andrew didn't go to **The Blight **before. Patches was driving a shitty old car with Andrew at the front seat "So you want me to fight in the **Pitt **in Blight? Where everything goes?"

"Yes, you beat the champ of the Pitt and Boom! Seventy five reds to win! I get my fifty and you can keep your twenty five." Patches focused on the unpaved (and bumpy ) road ahead. Old Londo was a fucking haven when compared to The blight. It was once a fertile farm field till the land died out. None know whether this Blight oozing from the land was an act of nature or an act of man. Nevertheless, The place became a wasteland.

Half an hour later, they reached their destination. The cheers of the crowd already indicated a fight going on. The place itself was a modified farmhouse (to fit more audiences). The stench of death and decay already reeked from this place. Bloodstains, Bloated body parts and empty syringes were virtually everywhere. Andrew's morale was shaken a little bit.

Patches guided Andrew to a small dressing room at the backstage. Inside, a black woman was pumping her vein with a regular Manity syringe. "Trish! Prepare our new fighter here, will you?"

"Sure thing, Mr. T" said Trish whilst enjoying the sweet Manity in her blood stream. Patches patted on Andrew's shoulder " Good luck, Bruv, See you on the other side!"

Patches left the room with haste. Andrew was pretty sure Patches was hiding something. Nevertheless, he had to push on. Trish inspected Andrew from the front and the back "Take off your clothes."

"Excuse me?"

"You ain't gonna fight the maneater in your fancy clothes…makes it easier for Mildred to rip your dick off." Her words troubled him greatly; Maneater? Dicks?

He undressed with discomfort. He could see the anticipation in Trish's eyes when he took off his pants "I would have a piece of that. Take off that scarf, pretty boy."

"The scarf stays." Andrew insisted.

"Alright, Hot shot, whateva." She brought him a tight boxer from the wardrobe. It was painfully yellow with the word _Jeremiah _on it. it fit rather perfectly despite the constant itch in the groin area.

"Pick up a weapon." Trish opened another wardrobe containing a respectable array of white weapons and firearms.

"No thanks, I will stick with my bowie knife and my .44." his answer made Trish laughs so hard "Oh man, She is gonna rape you so hard!"

Seconds later, a man in a checkered suit entered the dressing room "Hey, Trish, is the contender ready? Maneater had already finished off the last one."

"Ready as ever, Boss."

"Good, you, come with me." the checkered man demanded. Andrew went with the man through dirty hallways. He asked Andrew some questions "Gimme a name, place or anything interesting."

"Andr- **The vigilante.**"

"That sounds interesting, go on."

"Burg district. I am a bit fast on my feet. That's all I suppose."

"This will do, hang on." the checkered man left Andrew outside of the arena. He grabbed a microphone and started to announce the following **"Bitches and Gentlefucks, Are you ready for some REAL fightin' ?!"**

The crowd cheered and roared **"Good, 'cause we have a contestant from the Burg! Holla if you are from the neighborhood!" **the roar was less vibrant.

"**He's fast, He's furious….give it up for the one and only the Vigilante!" **Andrew slowly stepped into the arena. He didn't mind the roaring crowd. What terrified him was the beast in the middle of the arena.

Mildred was at least thrice his size, he could outline some real muscle behind all the fat. The maneater was naked as well with only a chain of dried dicks around her neck and a sack that covered most of her face except her malformed maw. She was already munching the arm of what Andrew assumed to be the late contender.

Mildred slowly stood up with a large butcher knife in her hand. She grinned "_Fresh meat!"_

"**Fight!" **said the checkered man before getting the fuck out of the arena. Despite her overweightness, Mildred charged towards him with an insane speed. Andrew ducked away at the last moment from the butcher knife before slicing the right side of the cannibal. Too bad she was too fat that the knife got stuck in-between the infinite layers of Lard.

"_Little man lost his toy, Hahaha!"_ Mildred howled like a crazed hyena. Andrew had to pull out his dad's gun. He fired three shots at her chest. The Hellfire bullets ignited upon contact. It didn't seem to hit any vital organ. Furthermore, the inflicted wound was closing upon Andrew's very own eyes.

"She's on White Manity, You twat!" Patches shouted out loud from a front seat. If only Andrew would get to that trickster….

Mildred was a slow cow with low stamina and a butcher knife. Andrew started to strafe Mildred slowly eating up her little stamina. Every now and then he would fire a bullet to see whether the regenerative ability of the White Manity had worn off.

Despite the success of his strategy, the crowd wasn't so pleased with the show. The checkered man pulled a lever behind the scenes. The arena became tighter with spikes erecting from the ground. It forced Andrew to close the distance.

"Little man has no place to run! Dinner time!" Instead of the usual slow swipes, Mildred jumped over Andrew. He didn't have enough time to react as she squashed him with the weight of her body. She started to lick his face seductively; her malformed teeth scraped his skin. The crowd kept shouting **"RAPE HIM! RAPE HIM! RAPE HIM!"**

Andrew was stiffed and terrified. He froze in fear as she was starting to take off that Jeremiah Boxer. Perhaps it was a miracle to find the stuck bowie knife. The will to survive rushed in his veins once more. While the Maneater was busy with his boxer, Andrew yanked the knife and jabbed the woman's neck.

Blood started to spill violently. The wound tried to close itself but Andrew's quick succession of jabs surpassed the regenerative effect of the white Manity. Andrew had the choice of stopping…Mildred was already begging for her life in-between the gushes but something inside urged him to kill the shit out of her.

The crowd was in utter silence as the Pitt fighter champion was killed…even Patches couldn't believe that a scrawny young man could outbest that terror. Andrew rolled her bloody corpse away before standing up. Patches was the first clapper amongst the crowd. Slowly, they started to clap and cheer for their new champion.

* * *

Andrew had a hard accepting what he had done. His father would have probably thrown him in jail. After all, his main goal was to kill the Chester. He needed to be mentally prepared for this. He thought about it while showering after the fight.

The checkered man awaited Andrew right at the door. He was quite stressed; after all, he had lost his best fighter. Andrew covered his face with an extra towel "Congratulations! You had earned your reds. " The checkered man stopped for a quick smoke "You know, Mildred had it comin'…Besides, people need something fresh and new. I bet you will fit right at her shoes."

"I appreciate your offer but I have other… goals to pursue." Andrew Politely refused.

"I understand. Here is your share." The man left Andrew with a briefcase. It was brimmed with thousands of reds. Patches swooped in moments later "Heyhey, Bruv! I knew you would send that fat fuck back to the morgue. Lemme see the goodies!"

Patches was more excited about the money more than Andrew himself. He took his fifty stacks with great content. "Hey , Patches, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Hm? Oh **yes!** I got overwhelmed, see? Your guy's outfit is based on the Baron Chesteron de Ceil one of the founding fathers of Lordran." Andrew lost his temper " I **didn't **pay you this amount of cash to tell me something I don't need to know!"

"B-but you do need to, mate. The Baron's outfit was manufactured in the Peculiar doll factory."

"That old closed factory in the Burg?" Andrew partially forgave Patches. He was getting somewhere.

"That's right. I got two tips for ya: Elizabeth had purchased the right the manufacture Chester's outfit for the eight hundredth anniversary for the construction of the Lordran district…Perhaps the Killer got his hands on some of the goodies?"

"And the other tip?" Andrew inquired.

"His tarot cards are old…**really old. **i bet Domhnall knows something. You know where is pawn shop , right?"

"Three block away from the burg's AFM. Got it." such information made Andrew a bit suspicious. How on earth he knew all of these?

"All's good, mate?"

"Yeah…Thanks, Patches."

* * *

It wasn't an easy ride back home. Andrew had to squeeze into one of those 'special' buses that went from the Pitt to the Burg. He paid half a grand to get in but considering that he had just earned twenty five thousands, it was alright so to speak.

At the back of the bus, there was a free seat. Andrew squeezed himself towards the seat when a woman in red stopped him "We bought two seats. It is not vacant. Go away."

Her hat was awfully large with pieces of cloth veiling her true face and yet her voice seemed to be so familiar…

"A-are you….Are you Sally Ryan? From channel 8?"

"Fuck fuck fuck!" She whispered "Look, we may look like one of them fucktards news reporters but we are not…Sally likes it though. Dust likes bloodshed, gore and blood in general. We agreed on having two lives and are not going to tell a soul about it!"

Andrew considered his words (especially with a person with a double personality disorder. "Let Sally remember my name: _The vigilante. _And you, Dust, you owe me one. I will keep my mouth shut for the time being. "

Sally, or rather Dust, smiled beneath her hat "You have my word. Go away now. We need to be alone." Andrew retreated back to the middle of the bus.

Today was a good day.

Andrew crawled back to his apartment at three or four AM. Narissa snored lightly from his bedroom. He threw his gun and bowie knife on the dinner table before crashing into his couch. He earned his rest today.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: *Words***

* * *

"You sold my Vespa?" Narissa was still salty about the loss of her ride. Andrew replied from the kitchen "I had to…look; I will buy you a new one, okay?"

It was Andrew's turn to make some breakfast and he was terrible at it. The look of his omelet wasn't exactly encouraging. Narissa had to add more ketchup to dispel that awful taste.

"So," Narissa wanted to talk about Andrew's or rather the Vigilante's venture last night "Where are you going first? Do you even trust this Patches?"

"I don't" admitted Andrew "It was strict business. Lying wouldn't benefit him a slightest. I will start with the old factory. Hopefully, all goes well."

"Good luck." Narissa coughed from the nasty aftertaste of the omelet. She did her best not to show it though. Andrew grabbed the dishes and put them into the sink as it was her turn. He washed his hands before leaving the apartment. Narissa stopped him while he was on the stair "Bullet, wait! I bought you this!"

"A baton?"

"You might need a non-lethal option." Narissa suggested. She was right in a way. Andrew took the Baton "Thanks."

* * *

Andrew was a just a niner when the peculiar doll factory was shut down by the government due to 'questionable infrastructure'. Thirty five people were squashed to death as the floor above them gave away. it was a scandal by all means and measures.

The public transportations were his sole choice for now. He arrived at his destination after an hour of traffic jam. The main entrance was blocked as he had expected. He had to find another way. The snores of a nearby guard made him cautious; he didn't want to wake him up as he was trespassing.

Andrew sneaked around the factory to find a sweet spot and he found it; a partially broken window. He had to break a little more to fit in. Dust and cobwebs welcomed Andrew the moment he stepped in. hundreds of naked little Dolls stared at him blankly. This must be the storage facility. He knew that the factory was mainly focusing on dolls. Fancy outfits were later introduced in their line of work.

The place was a bit dim, only cracks in the walls and the ceiling provided some sunlight. A flashlight would be handy in such situation. Andrew dispelled the thought and moved out of the storage facility. Immediately after, the stench of death overwhelmed his senses. He pulled out his pistol just in case. He slowly walked between long dead machineries before discovering a bloated corpse of a junky with empty syringes around him.

"That's what you get, asshole." Manity, he never saw any good coming from it. Andrew spotted a lighter among other thing in a duffle bag. He took it lest things get dimmer. There were three signs on the wall: _Management, shipping and Section B _respectively. Each had an arrow pointing to the right place. "Might wanna try Section B."

Apparently section B was at an underground floor. It made sense now; the owner wanted to make fancy outfits but he was constricted with a certain number of floors. Since he couldn't build up, he built down… tampering with the original infrastructure.

A frown was drawn on Andrew's face as the door was blocked by rubble. "like hell this would stop me!" Angrily, The Vigilante started to remove the rubble rock by rock. It took him over an hour to clear it all. He rested for five minutes or so before moving on.

Section B was pitch black. Andrew was grateful for the lighter. He was surprised to see dozens of Chester's and other fancy suits in one array each had a specific necklace with names on it. The outfits weren't the same; some were taller than the others and so on. Perhaps, they were limitedly manufactured for specific people?

One of Chester's suits was missing except the top hat which was on the dusty ground. Andrew excepted the top hat only to find strands of either gray or black hair. He couldn't differeniate with a bloody lighter. He stuffed it in his pocket for the time being. Andrew was about to head back when he stepped on something… it was the name tag.

"Alexander III? Hmm." Now that was a proper lead. The outfit next to the missing one was lacking a top hat. Andrew deduced that the tarot killer came here, took the outfit but he didn't like the top hat for some reason so he switched it.

Even with the lighter, Andrew didn't see the gaping hole in the ground till it was too late. He fell hard on his arm losing the lighter in the process. He knew his arm was probably dislocated or worse due to the immense pain radiating from it. Wherever he was, it smelled like shit and piss "I am in the sewers, aren't i?"

Despite the shitty situation, Andrew tried to remain positive. He got a name and a possible hair description out of the factory. He had to make his way out of here. He walked slowly on the slimly floor always sticking to one path. The sewers of the Lordran district were beautifully complicated. They were so tangled and deep that some people actually lived there. The folks down here used to call this place **The depth. ** Most of them are thieves who stole for the sake of survival.

The pungent fumes made the Vigilante a little dizzy. Every now and then, he would stop to catch his breath. The tunnels took him to an open area where a large flood gate would occasionally open for more dirty water to the main stream. A giant rat hissed at Andrew declaring its rightful territory. Andrew slowly backed off from this dog-sized vermin. Suddenly a blur of a long tongue coiled around the rat and dragged it to the shadows. He heard a weak squeal then broken bones. **"M-M-maaaan-M-anity!"**

It had to be one of the. A man or woman who had succumbed to this deformed state after an healthy overdose of Manity. Their genetic code got so fucked up that they became something one would see in a horror movie. Usually, when one of these beasts showed up, a special unit from Seath .Inc is authorized to capture the 'specimen' alive (in most cases.). They called themselves **The Channelers**.

Andrew decided not to tangle with the beast in the shades. He sneaked to the other sewer in the far side of the area. Alas, he found a metal ladder to a manhole. A passing car almost squashed his head as Andrew peeked. When the road was safe, he got out of the manhole. It was quite an irony to find himself right next to Saint flame hospital with Rhea Le Blanc heading out of the hospital "Mr Andrew Sanders?"

"Hi, Doc." He waved sheepishly.

"How on earth- ugh! Hey Vince!" She called a man who was cleaning his ambulance car. In a second, Andrew was hosed by fresh and cold water. Most of the stench was gone. "Are you hurt?"

"My arm…I fell on it." Before The doctor could act, Vince stood next to him and spinned his shoulder in a certain way. there were a sharp pain then comfort "Dislocated arm is relocated. Stay out of the Sewers, yo…you are not from the depth, are ya?"

"Vince!" Rhea glared at the medic "Apologies mister Sanders; Vince can be sometimes….over protective."

"It's alright." Andrew reassured "Thank for the help."

* * *

Narissa was waiting for Andrew this time. She spent the evening in the kitchen making a fine dinner. She wasn't exactly a fine cook (although she was way better than Andrew) but she slept with a handful of chefs who knew their trade well. The Darkroot special was a tricky soup to make, however, if made precisely, it would be one's favourite soup.

The man looked – and smelled horrible- "To the shower."

"I know but, Narissa, I am pretty-"

"NOW!" came the unbent order. If Bullet went here and there with that stench and his damp clothes, the apartment would be in mess. She would love to join Andrew in his shower (and more if possible), bullet had some odd mentality and idols that she had to respect. Sometimes, Narissa wondered, why he was so afraid of intimacy?

Bullet actually slept in the showers while her soup was getting colder. A rough knock on the door woke him up "Come on, Bullet, dinner is ready!" A mumble of sorts was the reply. Her late Sister Narmin used to occupy the bathroom for longer duration just to tease Narissa. She shed a lonely tear while remembering that. She asked herself whether she could just let go? Should she?

Andrew was in better state after his warm shower. He wasn't an avid fan of soups, however. Nevertheless, he decided to sit down and try some of the darkroot soup.

"So?" Narissa was anticipation his reaction.

"It is … alright. Haven't had a decent dinner for a while." His half complement made Narissa frown. Andrew changed the subject quickly "I got some info from the old peculiar doll factory. The tarot killer goes by the name of Alexander the third. His hair…oh crap." He totally forgot to take the strand from his damped pockets. He ran to the stack laundry in the bathroom to search for it. Sadly, it was like a needle in a haystack as his pocket was already unbuttoned.

He returned to Narissa in defeat "his hair was either black or grey."

"It's alright; you did a great job today. I can search for this fucking Xander meanwhile you can go to work. How many free days you got?"

"None, I wasted my last today." He admitted. He had half a mind of quitting his job since he stock up a decent amount of cash but he knew damn well that the pile would melt away in no time. He had to balance between his two lives somehow.

"I have some cash in the national bank if we are that desperate. I can go back to wor-"

"NO!" Andrew objected loudly "…just, no, please…" something in his latter sentence made Narissa reject her previous idea. Most of her past life as a prostitute wasn't glamorous; the things she saw and done…

"I-I am sorry, Bullet. Some of the hoes and previous customers owe some a favor…time to pay them a visit." He was a bit relaxed now.

"Very well, I need to get up early for tomorrow. Good night." He went straight for the coach.

"How abou-" Narissa stopped in midsentence. She knew he wouldn't sleep with her on the same bed; the other ones were riddled with stuff (mostly junk). Perhaps, one day, Andrew would ease up...


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: apologies for the soap opera up ahead XC**

* * *

**Drrring! **The alarm rang annoyingly as always. It was 7:00 Am this time; plenty of time to spare. Andrew took a shower, ate some cornflakes and dressed up. He decided to take his scarf ; perhaps he got so attached to his second life as the vigilante. Narissa was asleep that time, he chose not to wake her up.

Andrew mentally reminded himself to buy a bike and a Vespa for him and Narissa respectively. For now, a busy bus would suit him just fine. The stench of sweat was common whenever he entered a bus. Winter was coming soon anyway…

There was a vacant place near the driver's seat. he took that seat. the bus driver was obviously a heavy smoker from his Bad breath, yellow teeth and nails "Got a lighter?"

"Used to." His honest reply made the driver a bit grumpy. He asked a pregnant lady standing behind him. She gave him a silent glare.

"Can you turn up the volume?" the radio's sound wasn't clear a hence the Andrew's question.

The bus driver turned it up a notch. The radio was broadcasting a live conference with the chief of DMPD , Gwyndolin. One of the reporters was raining bitter questions upon the chief _"Any progress on the second case, Mr. Gwyndolin? People __**demand **__some answers."_

"**First of all, Only one case of homicide is reported. The alleged 'first' one was out incidental. As for the REAL case. The DMPD is putting all the resources to catch this amateur. We shall not stand idle while someone threatens the safety of our citizens." **If Andrew didn't know the man, he would definitely say it was a woman's voice.

"_I am sure that you will." _The reporter said it sarcastically yet in a professional manner. The bus driver turned off the radio "What a boy-cunt faggot! The DMPD are nothing but tax burden up in our asses!" many agreed with the driver including Andrew.

"If it weren't for his late father Gwyn, that little bitch would be outta the game. His dad was a beast though…" a backseat passenger added. Gwyn may not be one of the founding fathers of Lordran but he was considered to be one; he did so much good in the Lordran district.

Suddenly, something or someone landed on top of the bus. Andrew could see sharp talons jotting out of the roof. _It must be one of these days again…_

"Duck down!" One of the passengers yelled. In this kind of situations, it was for the best to do so. Andrew helped the pregnant lady to get down on the floor. He heard many things afterwards; gouts of flames, electric zapping and chains.

"It is alright, people! The boogie is down!" came the words that most of the passengers were awaiting for. Andrew stepped out of the bus to find a deformed figure of a scaled man-thing with blisters and a third arm. His legs were amphibian like in a wicked way. it was chained up and stunned as well. The channelers had the best equipment, weapons , armours….everything. their helmet was rather funny; it resembled a slender version a bike's helmet with six eye-like structures protruding from the helmet.

Four of them were at the scene; two were transporting the Manity addict to a specialized truck while the third one was on the wheels. The fourth was addressing the public. "Remember folks, you might wind up as Mr. Sleepyhead over here if you used any other source of Manity except Seath .Inc . Have a nice one."

* * *

After the channeler's incident, Andrew made it to the Bat wing building. Another surprise awaited him as couriers and other staff members were protesting at the closed doors of the building.

"They took our job!"

"You can't just sell the bat wing!"

"I got mouths to feed you assholes!" and more came from the angry mob. From the other side of the street, came a bulldozer and other heavy machineries. It was about time for Big M, the head of the Bat Wing, to show up. he was a bald man with a beer belly tucked behind a business suit.

M didn't have the chance to open his mouth as the curses were all over him. He cleared his throat before shouting "if everyone would just SHUT THE FUCK UP!' the staff started to quell a bit.

"Do you think for a fucking second that I would sell out my family's legacy? I have no other god damn choice! The government proclaimed that the building was not 'safe' for work. I don't have the money to rebuild another one especially with the prices nowadays." The older staff felt M's pain; he was literally raised in that building. "Isn't there anything we can do? Perhaps we can maintain it?"

"I tried ,bullet, I really tried…the bat wing has to go…." The Fortier shed a tear of sadness "But first, everyone get his or her stuff out of here." He unlocked the main door. Most of the staff went ahead while others tried to comfort Big M.

Andrew had been a courier for six months so far. It had been his most 'stable' job he worked on. 'Back to base…' thought Andrew when another bus was coming by.

* * *

Andrew headed back to his apartment. He heard shouting and yelling upstairs. Thankfully, It was out of rage. **"GOOD FUCKING DAY!"**

Sanders entered the moment Narissa slammed the phone "What's going on?"

"What's going on?!" she repeated sarcastically "Your _sister _called. Apparently that little bitch got worried about your welfare **DAYS **after the explosion! She said who the fuck am i**?! Who the fuck am I ?!** I am Narissa Bombshell Leon , Biatch!"

"Narissa, please calm do-"

" O hell NO! She said some baaaad things about me!" at the same moment, the phone rang again. Andrew yanked it with lightning speed before any potential disaster. "Hello?"

"WHO THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU ARE?! A HOE IN OUR HOME?! ARE YOU OUTTA OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!" her pitch was very loud and vulgar.

"It is **MY **home. Your home lies with the cocky son a bitch Richard!" Andrew instantly regretted saying hose harsh word. It was too late then.

"Oooooh! I see how are things now… Andrew Sanders…. You are dead to me. Stay the fuck away from us. If you EVER tried to contact me, I will have a restraining order up at your scrawny ass." The phone went dead afterwards. Narissa stared at his crushed face "Bullet, I may have overreacted a bit. I-I sorry…"

The man didn't answer. He left the apartment in grim silence.

* * *

Whenever things got shitty, Andrew would for the Old sunlight church. He wasn't much of a religion man but he sure loved the large park associated with the church. The park was mainly dedicated to the children who can't afford the luxury of pretty much anything. He was hoping to see a certain man in the park.

He chose to walk this time despite the glaring sun and the unforgiving traffic. After half an hour or so, he arrived at the church. The church was one of the oldest buildings in the district. Its architecture was magnificent by all means; the marble pillars, the luxurious granite floor and the outstanding glass art across all the windows.

Oddly enough, the park was relatively empty save for few handicapped children around a certain pardoner. Oswald was in man in his late forties; however, the pardoner has aged fairly quickly. his wisdom and choice of words fitted his age perfectly. Oswald was a selfless giver; he found happiness within the children's smile.

Andrew waved from afar not wanting to interrupt the pardoner. Oswald finished whatever story he was reading before heading to Andrew "Good to see you, my son, have you come to confess your sins? The gods above are merciful…"

"Oh, you know me." Andrew replied. He didn't want to offend the pardoner with his 'blasphemy'.

"I see. Then what troubles you? I can see it in your eyes." That's why Andrew came here in the first place.

"I am…lost. I am losing my sister….the only thing left for me in this world. She is in conflict with a dear friend of mine who needs my help. I need guidance, Pardoner."

"My son, I knew you since you were a mere toddler. You have a pure heart with a little of misdirection. Just follow your heart. it will guide to the right path." Oswald's answers were sometimes vague and yet they never fail to guide him to the right path.

"Thanks for the advice." he slightly bowed before heading out of the parked.

"The divine's embrace is always open for redeemers…"

* * *

After returning to the apartment, Andrew found a note on the dinner table. It said '_ I went for the public records, there are NO registered Alexander III. Going for Elizabeth's lead in Oolacile, Narissa.' _

Oolacile district was for the higher tier of the second class. He didn't worry about Narissa on this one. On the contrary, perhaps it was good for her to keep her mind busy from Narmin's death. He thought about this ghost, Alexander the third. Could he be the infamous Tarot killer? Or was it just a big coincidence?


End file.
